Only Ours
by KaylaRoseHolmes
Summary: Lestrade receives a surprise on a stormy night. (If all goes well this will be part 1/3)
1. Chapter 1

Only Ours:

Greg Lestrade spits out his toothpaste into the sink and drinks from his glass of water. His last day of the weekend had gone nicely. He'd gone to the bar with Sherlock and John and had a few drinks. It was easy going and comfortable, a friendship that would last. With a lazy stretch he starts to shuffle towards bed, only a little drunk because he had work tomorrow. The rain outside was harder than usual. Of course London had storms, but this one was oddly malevolent. _Like an omen._ Greg thought, chuckling to himself. The covers were soft and tight because of the hospital corners he always made his bed with. The lazy waves of sleep had only just begun rolling over him when there was a knock on the door. _Only wind. _Greg's sleep and drink induced mind told him. But the knocking persisted with panicked raps. Groggily, Lestrade drags himself from his bed, grumbling incoherently along the lines of _god awful hour_ and _who would even be here. _When he open the door the wind ushered in so much rain that Lestrade was soaked almost immediately.

"Dammit." He mumbled, looking at his sopping clothes. And as he glanced down, two things came to his attention. One, no one was at the door. Second, whoever had come had left something on the porch. Curious, Lestrade picked up the parcel and nearly dropped it when it squirmed. _What the hell?_ He thought his mind panicking. His mind had already made a logical but irrational solution. _God no._ He pleaded silently. But when he lifted the edge of the blanket he saw a teeny face that was sleeping soundly. Greg flung his door open again and ran outside.

"Hey! Hey! Anyone!" he screams, "Hello? You can't do this!" he cries desperately. The icy rain had now begun hitting the babies exposed face and it began crying in protest. Once he was back inside Greg leaned against his closed door and slid down into a sitting position. _What the hell am I going to do with a BABY? _He thought. Alternatives began rushing into his head, adoption being the foremost. He shifted the still crying baby into the other arm, and as he moved he heard the unmistakable crinkle of paper. Unrolling a layer of the blanket, he was surprised to see a thick sheet of official documentation.

It read: Certificate of Birth. Name: Sovereign Eveerie Adler. DOB: January 5th 2012. Place of Birth: St Bartholomew's Hospital. Mother: Irene Adler. Father:

Greg ran a hand through his hair. He knew of Irene Adler from police reports. She caused quite a bit of trouble way back when. But the idea of her dropping her BABY at Greg's door was insanity. Greg flipped the paper over and was surprised to find that someone had written something on the back.

Greg,

First, I owe you an apology. This is unfair and I am sick with even myself. My name is Irene Adler. It's come to my attention that you know who I am. In turn, I've heard much about you as well. I hope you are aware that this isn't what I want. But, I cannot care for my daughter. Her name is Sovereign, but I call her Savvy. She's a god girl, she doesn't even cry at night. I do not have money, a home, or a good job to care for her. I don't have any relatives and no one I can trust. I know that your wife died in a car accident while pregnant with your child. This is a horrible comparison, but I hope Savvy can ease some of that? No. I am very sorry. You are the only man in London who I could think of. I will come back. I promise. I will pay you for every penny, every MIUNTE, you spend with her. I cannot make you keep her. I understand if you need to let her go to a foster home. But please, in any way you can (even if that means giving her away.) Take care of my daughter. I'm begging you Lestrade.

Irene Adler

There was nothing about the letter that Lestrade found even remotely okay. What about the baby's father? How had Irene known about his wife? Why was HE the only man this woman could think of? He wasn't equipped to care for a child. Hell, he could barely take care of himself. He read the letter again. Then once more. This woman was desperate, obviously. A line kept catching his eye over and over. "She doesn't even cry at night." This was a woman out of options, pleading for her child whom she obviously loved. Greg was torn; this woman needed her child to be safe. And what was he even thinking? Torn? Obviously he couldn't take her, could he? He wasn't a dad. He had almost been at one point, but he wasn't. He didn't know how to care for a baby barely a year old. The baby's wails had subsided into gentle coos at the inspector. Greg looked at his wall where the last picture of him and his wife ever taken.

"Leslie, what would you have done?" he whispers quietly to the night. In truth, he knows exactly what Leslie what have done. Greg swallows and is gobsmacked at his own stupidity.

"I um, I guess you can, er, stay." He stutters at the child in his arm. As if she understood him, the little girl gurgles and lets her heavy eyelids slip shut again. Greg smacks his head on the back of the wall.

"What have I even done?" He whispers, and he swears he can hear the night laughing.


	2. Chapter 2

Walking into the supermarket at 12a.m. with a baby in his arms was so surreal to Greg he almost found himself laughing. Also to his surprise, no one was looking at him strange. What an odd pair we make, he thinks looking at the baby in his arms. Both were soaking wet and obviously tired. One was sleeping and the other looked like the walking dead. Greg shuffled to the part of the store he'd never been to before. The baby aisle.

"I am in way over my head." he groaned as he looked at rows of bottles, pacifiers, nappies, clothes, cots and everything thing he assumed a baby would need.

"Okay, tonight just the basics. We'll, um, finish it tomorrow." Lestrade told the sleeping infant. Lestrade ran a hand through his hair again. This was going to take awhile

Over an hour later, Greg huffed to the cashier, juggling a bottle, formula, two boxes of nappies, a pacifier, a couple of baby clothes sets, and a small rain coat he's thought the baby would enjoy in the rain all in a little basket he'd found.

"We'll that be all for you sir?" the lady asked.

"Yes, thank you." Lestrade mumbled. Talking to others had always made him nervous, and now was no exception. He hurried out as quickly as he could, but not before putting the little raincoat on the girl's tiny frame. She'd squirmed a bit, but now she was back asleep. Hailing a cab was easier then Lestrade would have guessed at almost 2a.m. Irene hadn't lied when she said Savvy was a good girl. Lestrade held her the entire way home and she just, slept. No cries no protest, just sleep. Greg caught himself smiling at her sucking her bottom lip, as if in contemplation at her circumstances. Maybe, just maybe, Greg would be alright.

Back at his house, Greg managed to get his purchases inside without waking the baby. Problem one, where would the baby sleep? Greg bit his lip as he kicked himself internally for not buying a cot. On the table was a hamper of his folded clothes. For tonight, that would have to work. Laying a clean sheet inside, Greg produced a temporary cot worthy of his little bundle. Greg knew little about babies themselves, but, thanks to his wife's parenting classes, he at least knew the basics. For example, the little girl probably needed her nappie changed. He hated the idea of waking the baby, but it was pretty nonnegotiable.

"Look Savvy," Greg tried to explain, "I'm not so good at this, so, uh, sorry." He finished quickly. _She needs dry clothes anyway I suppose._ Lestrade reasoned with himself. So with a final decision, Greg opened a new box of nappies and got to work. Savvy woke up, but she again, did not cry. Once Greg had finished changing her he slipped her into a flower covered pajama set and she gurgled happily. Greg laughed saying "You're welcome." In the light of his house, Greg took in the tiny girl. Her hair was dark and swirly; she'd probably end up with curls. Her eyelashes were long and thick and her cheeks were a rosy blush. The baby's eyes were a dark blue. Actually they were an interesting shade, most blue eyes were like the sky, but Savvy's were almost the shade of sapphires, dark and luscious blue. To his surprise, Greg also saw green swirled in there. They were charming eyes, really. Her tiny lips had a sharp cupids bow as well. While looking at her lips Greg realize she was probably famished. In a rush Greg laid her down in her make-shift cot and went to the kitchen for the formula. Greg's wife had learned to make it, but Greg himself never had. He was at the mercy of the instructions on the box. After reading his war plan, Lestrade carefully measured the correct amount of formula into the bottle he'd bought. He remembered his wife saying not to microwave the bottle, something about hot spots. So instead Greg used warm water from the sink. He hoped he was doing this right, because he was completely lost already. He dripped some drops onto his rest to double check that it wasn't too hot. With the bottle in one hand, he scoops up Savvy who looks at him expectantly.

"Um, try this." Lestrade says, clumsily lifting the bottle to the baby's lips. The baby gives an experimentally suck on the bottle. Her eyes open wide when she realizes what it is and commencing to sucking hard and fast at her meal.

"I'm sorry. I guess you were hungry." Greg says, watching her suck harder on the bottle. He isn't sure whether he should slow her down or not. _Will eating that fast make her sick?_ Greg didn't know, in fact, he didn't have even a guess. So he just let her drink and drink, and hoped she would be okay. Savvy didn't take long to empty the bottle. She had slowed down near the end and now she seemed sleepy again. Greg remembered what he had to do next and he proudly put a towel on his shoulder and began patting the infants back. He imagined Leslie then; maybe she was looking from wherever she was and smiling at her husband pacing the floor with a baby on his shoulder.

"Please tell me I'm doing this right." He whispers, and as if someone was listening the baby burps successfully, only hiccupping a little of formula.

"That's it." He says, bringing her off his shoulder. She coos at him in response.

"Let's hope your mom meant it when she said you don't cry, eh?" the detective inspector says. As he lays her gently down in the hamper, he gets the sense that he's doing the right thing. Maybe Leslie really was cheering for her husband somewhere. The clock read 3:17. Lestrade was beat but he needed to make sure the baby was fine. H hoisted the basket into his room and set it by his bed.

"I don't have any toys for you." He says to the baby apologetically.

"I have a jumper. Good enough?" Greg doubted the baby would know the difference, and as he fished out the grey cover he wondered if she'd want toys. Obviously yes, eventually at least. For now though, she was content with snuggling with Greg's jumper. She held it in her tiny hands, and as if she was satisfied with his choice of item, she promptly closed her eyes and put herself to sleep. With a sigh of exhausting Greg fell into his bed. The situation was almost comical. Him? With a baby? It sounded absurd, but it was true. Despite the thoughts rampaging through his head, Lestrade fell asleep quickly into a deep and exhausted sleep.

The next morning, Greg awoke at 6 like he did every morning. The early sun was hidden behind a low cloud cover, and Greg knew he was in for rain at work. For a moment everything was quiet, then a quiet sneeze came from his hamper. _O god, the baby. _He thought swinging over the hamper. He'd already almost forgotten her. With a sigh he scooped her up.

"I'll be better, I promise." He said and took her to the kitchen. After a quick nappie change, Greg made her another bottle and made himself a cup of tea. The pair sat contently, drinking their beverages together in silence. The thought of work flitted into Greg's mind. _Dear god. How am I going to go about work?_ He thought in panic. He couldn't leave the baby here unattended. He couldn't stay home, he had a case he was in the middle of and he'd already had the weekend off. The baby could, what? Come with him? What would people say? What would he say? How could he work with a baby to worry about? The case was a simple one, John and Sherlock wouldn't be needed. Maybe they could…? _No. No that's completely inconvenient to them. _Greg scolded himself. And besides, what would those two know about children. Perhaps Mrs. Hudson could help? He could pay her. It would just be for a little until he could hire a nanny or something. Yes that is what he would do. Mrs. Hudson would help, right? Well, she'd at least take pity on him. Maybe that'd be enough.


End file.
